"That's impossible! I'm the Viscount of the Cavendish family. Who would dare kill me?" Charles said, panicking. "Besides, I'm only one of the heirs. My cousin Toby is ahead of me, and below me are Uncle Marco's two adopted daughters and son."
William shot Charles a disdainful look. This guy was nothing but a pampered, sheltered weakling. "Now you remember you're only one of the heirs? A minute ago, you looked like you were planning to take everything for yourself."
"Hah! If you're thinking that way, don't you think your rivals are too?" William continued to scare Charles. "And have you ever wondered why Marco is getting married now, and to a woman in her twenties from the island nation? Once he's married, the inheritance you guys will split will be cut down to just a third—and that's between the four of you."
As William spoke, he glanced at the news on his phone. "Haha, take a look at this article. The richest woman on the planet, Suzy Nakamura—your ex-girlfriend?"
Seeing Charles's face turn pale and his expression become flustered, William suddenly lost interest. He stood up and straightened his clothes. "One more time, I'm warning you. Don't get too caught up in this. I don't want you dead and Duke Devon coming after me for it. I'm out."
As William was about to leave, Charles called out, "Wait, William! Wait! Even if you don't want to get involved, can't you at least help me find someone to assist? The Duke told me you've got a team of highly capable people. If they can just help me get through this, I'll repay you. How about the Margaux vineyard? I'll give it to you for free."
"You really are an idiot, aren't you?" William sneered. "Don't you think about why that sly old fox Duke Devon won't help you? Don't tell me he doesn't have people who can protect you."
William walked up to Charles, grabbed him by the collar, and lifted him off the ground. "Do you think I'm stupid? Do you really think a small favor like that would make me willing to be your shield?"
"No, no, of course not!" Charles stammered.
"One more word, and I'll kill you," William said, throwing Charles back onto the sofa. "Remember, you owe me ten bottles of Macallan 1959. If you dare not pay up, unless you're ready to meet Satan, I guarantee you'll be begging to settle the debt. Damn relatives—one wants to steal my wealth, and the other wants to use me as a tool. Heh, we'll see."
Leaving Charles behind, William stormed out of the reception room. He headed to the second-floor terrace of the main building, smiling as he pulled out the half bottle of Macallan 1959 from his storage space.
"Hey, man, you've got great timing. I just got this Macallan 1959 yesterday, and I've only had half a bottle myself," William said as he walked onto the balcony and sat down next to Garris. He grabbed two glasses from the table and shook the bottle. "Try some."
"No problem," Garris said excitedly, taking the bottle and inspecting it. "God, only someone as insanely rich as you could keep buying these rare Macallan vintages one after another. Don't worry, let me pour."
Garris took the glass from William. "Wasting a drop would be a crime."
Once Garris had poured the drinks, William glanced at Garris's full glass and then at his own, which was noticeably less. He rolled his eyes. "You bastard, put the bottle on the table. What's with holding it?"
"Obviously, I'm taking it home," Garris replied, completely unfazed. "Even if there's only a quarter left, having it at home to show off when guests come over is still a big deal."
"Damn it," William said, rubbing his forehead as he watched Garris guard the bottle. "Let's get down to business. How's the tax rebate application for the bulletproof products company going?"
Garris pulled a folded document from his jacket pocket and tossed it to William. "It's done. We qualified for an 11% tax rebate as a high-tech company, so now the company only has to pay 15% in taxes. You're not upset anymore about Katherine and me taking a 10% sales commission, right?"
William looked over the document carefully, satisfied. "Not bad. Don't forget, you and Katherine are shareholders in the company too. Saving the company money is the same as saving it for yourselves."
"Oh, please," Garris said, rolling his eyes. "When are you going to donate that commission to our foundation like you promised?"
"Right now," William said with a smile, pulling out his phone and pretending to make a call. Under Garris's expectant gaze, William suddenly said, "How about I give you cash instead?"
"No, no, no!" Garris quickly objected. "You're not going to tempt us. I barely spend £100,000 a year. Cash is like a bomb to me—there's no way it's better than the foundation."
William shrugged, ignoring Garris's look, and shamelessly said, "I'm just testing you. If you're too greedy, I might have to reconsider our future collaborations."
"Alright, your shamelessness has surpassed my expectations. Just shut up and transfer the money already."
Putting down his phone, William spoke to the air. "Transfer the money."
"Yes, sir."
Soon after, Garris's phone rang. When he answered, the head of his foundation was on the line, excitedly saying, "Sir, we've just received a donation of £25.5 million, but the donor is anonymous. Should we accept it?"
Garris looked at William, who nodded. Garris calmed his excitement and replied, "As long as the money comes from a legitimate source, we'll accept it. Can you trace which bank transferred it?"
"Yes, sir. The money came from the Swiss-based Basti Bank. It's a very old institution, not open to the public, and only invites elite clients. Legally, there's no issue with the donation."
"That's good to hear. Thanks for the update," Garris said, hanging up the phone. He stared at William curiously. "How are you connected to Basti Bank? They're said to only take on 100 clients, and even many of the top 50 billionaires can't get an invitation."
"Hah, you're in the top 50 billionaires list, but can they compare to me?"
William wasn't about to tell Garris that Basti Bank was now controlled by the Priory of Sion. Its current manager was André Vernet, a banker William had encountered in Paris seven months ago. After laying low for half a year, the Priory of Sion had begun integrating into the Swiss banking elite, thanks to William's financial influence. This shift brought William the benefit of making his secret financial dealings even more secure.
Just then, a call came in from Catherine, the UK's Secretary of Security. The two of them spent a while exchanging meaningless pleasantries.
After hanging up, William mocked, "Catherine managed to sell nearly a hundred bulletproof suits. You only sold 51. Aren't you ashamed? You're a noble, Garris. Don't nobles usually own one of everything?"
"Haha, what's there to compare?" Garris said, in a great mood from the commission he had just earned. "£500,000 a suit! God, you think everyone's as rich as you? Only nobles who are still in decent shape or not too old would consider buying one."
Then Garris joked, "Didn't Duke Devon stop by earlier? Why didn't you pitch the suits to him?"
"Heh, now that you mention it, I've decided to gift a suit to both the Duke and his wife. With that as a demonstration, do you think my so-called uncle and others will want one too?" William said with a sly smile.
"You're something else," Garris paused for a moment, then silently gave William a thumbs-up.
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